Stone in Love
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock gets drugged by a group of criminals, John brings him to Barts to have Molly find out what he was given. Whatever it was makes him say... things. Inspired by my favorite Journey song. Will have two parts. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**_Stone in Love_** **is one of my all time favorite Journey songs. I know I'm aging myself here with a song that was released in 1981, but I don't care, even a little bit... it rocks my socks (how very 80's of me!)**

 **This will be a two parter. I own nothing here except some threadbare concert tees and EVERYTHING Journey recorded on vinyl, cassette (yes they once made those) and cd, up to the** ** _Departure_** **(that's me being cheeky, sorry youngins...** ** _Departure_** **is the name of a Journey album) of Mr. Steve Perry. I have very strong feelings about that subject.**

 **Thank you MizJoely for betaing this. She works with me** ** _Patiently_** **and** ** _Faithfully._** **.. get it? (More Journey song titles.) Okay, fine, I'll stop. Starting to annoy myself. Enjoy!**

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"MAAAWLY!"

Molly looked up from the culture she was studying as soon as she heard her name (or something like her name) coming from the corridor outside the path lab. It was almost eleven pm (the end of her shift), so of course something outrageous was about to happen.

"MAAAWLY!"

She got up and started for the door but suddenly it burst open. John Watson came in dragging Sherlock Holmes along with him. He was clearly high and sporting a busted lip.

 _Dear Lord, not again,_ she thought. "What the hell has he done now?"

"He's been drugged... again," John explained.

"Obliously," Sherlock slurred.

Molly sighed. "With what?"

"So bootiful... she's so bootiful," Sherlock babbled, to no one in particular.

John propped the drugged detective up on a bench. "No idea."

Sherlock started humming. Molly looked at John as if she needed more of an explanation.

"This is nothing, he sang about dancing and dusty roads and rivers, all the way here." He shook himself at the memory. "Anyway, like I was saying, they emptied the syringe in him, then it got crushed in the fight." Molly's eyes flashed with concern. "Don't worry Greg got them, but we need to find out what it was."

"Sorry John, I can rush the results but a tox screen will take at least eighteen to twenty-four hours."

He huffed. "That's what I thought. Well it's better than nothing, go ahead and draw some blood and run it if you don't mind."

"I dunna mind, Molly can have anyfing she wants," Sherlock said with a goofy grin on his face. "Ready has ma heart."

The doctors stared at him for a moment.

"Wha?" he asked, then reached up and booped Molly's nose. "Look at dat nose... soooo cute."

Molly slowly turned to John, her eyes popping. "So, I'll just, um... get the ah..." she trailed off as she went to get the necessary supplies.

John took Sherlock by the shoulders. "Look at me mate. How do you feel?" he asked trying to get an idea of what his best friend had been given.

"Fan-flucking-tastic," Sherlock said with a giggle, then he got serious. "Dushe like me?" he asked as he put his hands on John's arms.

John shook his head. _It would take some unknown drug to get Sherlock to decide he likes Molly Hooper_ , he thought. "Try to control yourself, yeah?"

"Plhhh, control... too much control... dunt wan control. Wan Molly," he said looking around desperately for the pathologist. "Where'd she go, so tiny... she's easy to lose... I keep losing her Don."

John chuckled. "I know," he said. "I just wish you weren't stoned right now."

Sherlock got a far off look in his eyes. "I'm stone in love, Don," he said wistfully.

Just then Molly showed up with a collection of vials, a butterfly needle, a tourniquet and tubing. It was clear that she was prepared for a difficult draw, knowing Sherlock's drug history. "Okay Sherlock. I need to take your blood. Can you sit still long enough for me to do that?" she asked in a very patronizing tone.

He was nodding his head the whole time she was speaking.

She giggled. "Okay. Take off your coat and jacket for me?" As she busied herself prepping her supplies and putting on her gloves, she heard John curse under his breath and looked up to see Sherlock shrugging out of his shirt.

"Damn it Sherlock, she didn't say anything about your shirt," he said trying to pull the detective's shirt back on as Sherlock was taking it off.

"Molly dunnit mind. Do you, Molly?" Sherlock preened.

John gave up the fight and tossed Sherlock his shirt. Then he turned his back and paced away.

"Give me your arm Sherlock," Molly said holding out her hand.

"Anyfing for you," he said grinning madly.

Molly giggled at his inability to talk properly around his swollen lips and drug addled brain. He didn't so much as flinch when she poked him with the needle, just continued to stare at her like she was the most captivating creature on the planet. When she finished she placed a plaster over the small hole in his arm.

He scrunched his face. "It hurts," he said.

"Sherlock, as good as you're feeling I could probably slap you and you'd not feel a thing." Molly turned to clean up the supplies.

"This." He pointed to his bloody lip. "This hurts, kiss it and make it better?" he asked still pointing.

Molly turned back to him with wide eyes. John had found his way back to the pair. "Sherlock, stop sexually harassing Molly and put your bloody shirt on."

"Just want a kiss. Is that so much to ask? She kissed stupid meat fork."

"Meat dagger- oh, I mean Tom, his name was Tom, Sherlock you know that," Molly stammered but continued cleaning up.

"Kissed meat dagger, kissed Jim, won't kiss me." He crossed his arms over his bare chest and pouted.

Molly whipped around. "Sherlock! Don't... I mean... Why would you..." She stormed off muttering to herself.

"Nice one mate. I think you were doing pretty well until you mentioned your arch enemy," John said, shaking his head.

"She did, kissed a criminal... won't kiss me."

John laughed and helped Sherlock with his buttons (as the detective was having issues.) "You don't really want to kiss Molly, Sherlock, you're just so high you _think_ you want to kiss her. I'm just glad you've focused your attention on her instead of me."

Sherlock gave him a look of pure disgust. "Married to my work John – told you that once, member?"

"Yeah – yeah, I remember."

"Thought I was clear that night, you're not my work," he said forcefully then he looked at Molly who was still fighting with her latex gloves. "Molly's my work." His voice softening.

John paused. "You... you mean?"

"You observe, but not see, Wahn Joston," Sherlock said, still looking at the pathologist.

John looked over at Molly and back to Sherlock. "Sherlock..."

"She's so lovely," he whispered.

John smiled. "That she is, Sherlock."

Sherlock jerked his head back to his friend. "Get your own patholo... patholllo... dead cutty person."

Molly walked up, having successfully won the battle with her gloves, and gave the men an appraising glare. "Okay, I'll know something tomorrow evening." She looked from Sherlock to John. "He needs sleep, are you staying with him tonight?"

John nodded.

"I need to process this," she said holding up the vial of Sherlock's blood. "Call me if you need anything."

John pulled Sherlock up and helped him with his coat, deciding to carry his jacket. _Why must the man wear so many layers,_ he thought. _It's summer for God's sake, why on earth does he even have his Belstaff?_

"Molly," Sherlock said as they reached the door, John holding it opened and trying to pull the loopy detective through it. Sherlock just shrugged him off.

"What Sherlock?" Molly asked with an exasperated sigh.

He stared at her for almost a full minute before speaking. "I can't help myself."

"What?" she asked.

"Love comes once in a lifetime," he said.

Molly just stared at him.

"I'll keep you forever." Sherlock didn't elaborate, he just turned and stumbled out of the door. Leaving a flustered Molly in his wake.

"Well, let me know when you find out what drug makes Sherlock Holmes a romantic fool," John said with a small smile, following behind the detective.

Molly just sighed.

 _ **That's part one, hope you enjoyed it. As always reviews are appreciated.**_

 _ **Lil**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part two Y'all! Thanks for all the favs, followers, and reviews! You are all so awesome! This part get's a tiny bit angsty (but not too bad.)**_

 _ **Thanks once again to MizJoely beta extraordinaire. (I'll spare you the corny Journey references this time... don't get used to it.)**_

 _ **I own nothing.. enjoy!**_

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Sherlock stood in the hallway outside the break room the next night. He was wearing, as always, an impeccable suit and his trademark coat. If he ever needed his armor, it was this night, even if it was a sticky midsummer evening.

He knew she was in there, he had heard her curse when she dropped the sugar. Almost a full day of sleep had righted the consulting detective, he was back to his old self. Now... now he had to face the music, as they say. He had to go talk to Molly. He had to explain his behavior and why he said... what he had said.

He hadn't been this nervous since the Watson's wedding.

He heard her start to walk out so he moved into a doorway, obscuring himself from Molly's vision. When she came out of the room she took his breath away.

 _Jeans? Why is she wearing jeans?_ As she walked down the corridor, no lab coat present- just jeans and a slim fitting tee-shirt, Sherlock's head spun. She passed by a window making her appear to glow- she looked golden in the moonlight, if for only a moment. Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head, such fanciful thoughts wouldn't help his current predicament, _or perhaps they would,_ he thought. He took a deep breath to composed himself before following her into her office.

He found her standing in front of her desk looking over an autopsy report. "Molly," he said.

Molly screamed and stumbled backwards. He reached out and caught her arm as she righted herself on her desk. "What the... Sherlock where the hell did you come from?" she said with a hand over her heart.

"Why are you wearing jeans?" he asked, ignoring answering her question.

She took a deep breath. "It's my day off Sherlock, I just came in to do some paperwork and check on your tox screen."

 _Of course, her day off,_ he thought. "Thank you for that Molly."

She gave him an odd look and started to move to her laptop, presumably to check for the results, but he stopped her. "Molly, about yesterday..."

"Did John tell you... about what you said?" she said not looking up. "It's okay, you were..."

"Not exactly," he cut her off, then paused to consider his words. "I ah, remember... everything."

She looked up. "Oh."

He watched her cheeks turn pink. "Yes, it seems our criminals didn't do their research. I have a much higher tolerance for sedatives than the average human." He gave her an apologetic smile. "Ah, I um may have been a bit more aware of what I was doing- saying, than I let on."

"You weren't high?" she asked.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and licked his lips. _This is going to end in bloodshed... how many slaps this time, I wonder._ "I wouldn't say that, I was feeling pretty good," he said with a very small laugh. "But, um... if your question is; did I know what I was saying? Well, yes- I'd have to say... yes, I-I did."

Molly stared at him, mouth agape. Finally she managed, "I d-don't understand. Why would you do that? That's... that's cruel, even for you that's just cruel Sherlock." He tried to speak but she continued. "I mean after everything I've done, everything I risked for you and you decide to take the piss because you can blame it on being drugged." She stepped further away (as much as she could in the small space.) "And now? Now you've come to clear your conscience? It would have been kinder to have kept your _little act_ to yourself, you know."

Sherlock stepped closer to her. "Not an act." He huffed and raked his hands through his hair. "I- I was feeling quite relaxed, but not to the point that I couldn't completely control myself. Although, my articulation was admittedly... lacking." He once again paused and considered how to phrase his next statement. "Molly, I... you got over me. You moved on."

She furrowed her brow and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I..." He closed his eyes. "Damn it, I wish I was still high." When he opened them he saw the look on Molly's face. "No I don't mean... I don't- I don't want you to move on. I want," he paused and made a questioning face, "things."

She shook her head. "No, no you can't be saying... What are you saying?"

"This is very difficult for me. This conversation makes my best man's speech look like a day at home playing with a pancreas. At least I had note cards for the speech," he mumbled.

"Sherlock, just tell me what your trying to say."

He looked at her and saw that she was confused and hurt and on the verge of physical violence. _Perhaps this time she'll punch me_ , he thought. He had to get to the point, and quickly. "I've wanted to expand the parameters of our relationship for some time now. I want more, I want... you, Molly." Her eyes grew even bigger than they normally were and the blush that was once confined to her cheeks, started to spread to her neck and chest. "Last night I took advantage of my slightly relaxed state, to relieve myself of the burden of my feelings- not that my feelings are a burden," he added quickly, grateful that he beat her to the punch on that one. "However keeping them to myself... has been, difficult to say the least. I knew what I was saying, and I meant every word. Every sappy, romantic word." Having finally finished he felt a mixture of anticipation, relief and terror. If he were honest, he was a tiny bit nauseated, as well. He told himself _that_ was because of the drugs.

Molly looked down at the floor, seeming to process his words. She shook her head and glanced back to the detective then back to the floor. She was mouthing some words, he wondered if she was replaying the evening. He stood back and let her take her time to consider everything. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

"You have feelings for me?" she asked. "And couldn't tell me until you were high as a kite." He made a face. "Sorry, _relaxed_ ," she said, arms folded around her middle protectively.

He felt shame wash over him like a tidal wave. "I understand that this is not the best case scenario." He forced a laugh. "Maybe not the story we tell the grandkids?"

"You're serious about this."

He swallowed. "Yes, I am. But you've moved on and I know I should have told you a long time ago, so I understand if you..."

She was suddenly standing right in front of him. "I wish you hadn't been stoned. I wish you could have just been honest with me. I wish you had told me when, wait... a long time ago. How long?"

"Before Christmas, before Jim, I..." He looked down at his hands. He couldn't remember ever feeling this unsure of himself, it was maddening. "I- I think... always."

"You're an arse!" she spit out. "And if you were within your own mind why the hell did you bring up _him_?"

"I was still me Molly, I always say the wrong thing. Every time... always, remember?" He took a breath. "You're right, I'm an arse, and I deserve your ire, but..."

Molly fisted her hands at her sides and extended herself as tall as her tiny frame would allow. "But what? I'm just supposed to fall down at your feet because a night of stoned ramblings? I've done things for you, illegal things, immoral things. I believed in you when everyone else gave up! I- I never stopped caring for you, loving you and you pretended you didn't care for... years!"

"You never stopped, still haven't stopped?"

She folded her arms across her chest and turned away. "Of course not you great buffoon!"

He gave her a few moments for her anger to fade before speaking. "Molly, if I promise not to keep anything from you ever again, would you be willing... I mean could we perhaps try? I'm not saying I have any idea what I'm doing, but I know how I feel." _Just say it you coward_ , his mind screamed at him. "I love you."

Molly slowly turned and looked at him with unshed tears in her eyes. "You don't play fair Sherlock. That is **not** playing fair."

"It's the truth, for once, the way I actually feel about you. You'll never just be my friend or pathologist. I need you, I've always needed you Molly. I had thought in time it would... while I was gone," he stammered, struggling once again. "But the memories never fade away, they torment me. What's worse are the memories we could've had if I'd been stronger, if I'd been better."

Molly was crying now, tears falling freely down her beautiful face. She nodded her head. "Don't break me Sherlock. If we do this you have to remember this moment and remember that I'm taking a huge chance with my heart here."

"Is that a yes?" he asked with a hopeful smile on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "I must be completely insane." Molly reached up and pulled him down until their lips met. When they broke Molly smiled at the shock on Sherlock's face.

"You're good at that," he said.

Molly chuckled. "Of course I'm good at that. I'm good at other things too. Come on," she said picking up her bag and pulling him by his arm. "I'm taking you home... with me. Not that you deserve it, but we have some memories to make, might as well get started."

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 _ **Thanks for reading... final thoughts?**_


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